After Losing His Memory, He Begged My Forgiveness Novel Chapter 11 – A Father’s Attempt
The next morning, John waited outside the school gates.
He had asked Lily if he could pick their daughter up, just once. Lily was hesitant—no, terrified—but her daughter had overheard the conversation and surprised them both by saying, “I’ll go. Just for today.”
Now, he stood among a sea of parents, fidgeting with a paper bag of snacks he had made himself. It had her favorites—banana muffins, cheese crackers, and little cartoon toothpicks to hold them together. It wasn’t much, but he was trying.
When the bell rang, children flooded out. She was easy to spot—same pigtails, same bunny backpack.
She saw him.
And froze.
He raised his hand awkwardly, giving a little wave. “Hey, kiddo.”
She didn’t run to him, but she didn’t turn away either. Slowly, cautiously, she walked over.
“Your mom said you like banana muffins?” he said, holding out the paper bag like it was a peace treaty.
She didn’t take it right away. “Did you make them?”
“I did,” he said, almost proudly. “I double-checked the recipe and everything. Might’ve burned the first batch, but—”
She reached in and took one, inspecting it like a suspicious officer. Then, a cautious bite. Her eyes widened.
“It’s okay,” she muttered.
John’s shoulders dropped in relief, and he laughed softly. “High praise.”
They began walking together, quietly at first. He didn’t push her, didn’t ask about her toys or her friends or her drawings. He just matched her pace.
After a block, she spoke again.
“Why did you forget about me?”
John stopped walking.
“I… I didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “I don’t remember everything yet. But I think the person I became… he forgot what was important. And that’s not okay. It’s not your fault.”
She looked up at him with big eyes that were too much like Lily’s. “Are you going to leave again?”
He knelt down to her level. “No. Not unless you tell me to.”
She thought about that. Then offered him a bite of her muffin.
And in that tiny moment, a crack formed in the wall she’d built around her heart.
That night, Lily watched them from the window as they walked up the path—John holding her daughter’s backpack, her daughter holding his hand.
Something about the scene twisted her heart.
She opened the door before they could knock.
“She liked the muffins,” John said with a small smile.
“She told me,” Lily replied. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were glassy.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I wanted to give you this.”
“What is it?”
“Everything I remember,” he said. “Every little flash I’ve gotten since the accident. Names, places, feelings. I wrote them all down. Maybe you can tell me what’s real and what’s not.”
Lily unfolded the page.
Her name appeared seven times. Her daughter’s, nine.
Melissa’s… once.
And beside it, he’d written in shaky handwriting: regret.
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